Closet Capers
by jjscriptease
Summary: Max and May's brilliant idea to surprise their parents turns out not so brilliant when they catch them in the middle of something very strange. Max x May, lemon.
1. Surprise!

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Pokémon and stand to gain no profit from this fic.

**Summary:** Max and May's brilliant idea to surprise their parents turns out to be not so brilliant when they catch them in the middle of something very strange. Max x May, Lemon.

**A/N:** Rated M for really sour lemonade and incesty themes. This is going to be a 5 part story and I'll endeavour to upload a new chapter every week.

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**Closet Capers**

Chapter 1 – Surprise!

She was an animal, thought Max, as his sister threw him to the ground. May straddled his little body, confining him to wriggles, pinning down his wrists. She might've been a 90 pound, ten year-old girl, but next to him – or on top as it were – she possessed the strength of a Tauros. He was forced to surrender, like the other hundred times he tried to outwrestle her. She kissed her non-existent muscles and boasted how he'd never win. Her pokémon cheered her on in the background. Whatever. If he owned any, they'd be just as bias. She offered him a hand. No thanks. He could get up on his own. The last thing he wanted was to give his bully the impression it was a fair fight.

Ever since Max and May parted company from Ash and Brock, the brother-sister duo travelled Hoenn alone. With the extended proximity of one another, sibling rivalry flared up more often than not. May always came up on top. Max consoled himself with the fact her dominance was not due to intelligence or maturity. He carried bags of those. She carried mood swings and a bossy attitude. Without a referee between them, she waved free reign to treat him how ever she pleased. He didn't even have pokémon to defend himself. Granted, she never abused her power unless he challenged her, made fun of her hair or teased her about her habits. She deserved it though!

Arriving at Route 104, it dawned on them both they reached the final stretch to Petalburg City. Home. After months of forests, mountains, caves, sleeping bags, bug bites, tinned food and Team Rocket, Max couldn't be more thrilled to return.

"Race you there!" He broke into a sprint.

"Wait," cried May. "Not fair!"

His advantage waned with fatigue. Her longer legs lapped past him and she was sure to ruffle his hair along the way. Bushes hiding wild pokémon began to thin, trees cleared the way to civilization and the afternoon sun smiled brighter and brighter.

May hopped onto the porch first, out of breath, Max trudging in tow. She rapped on the door and called out to her parents. No one responded. Max gave it a try as if he didn't trust her knocking ability. He received the same silence. Odd. Their parents weren't exactly the outgoing type. Norman, their Gym Leader father, had to attend to Pokémon League duties every now and then; but if it weren't for grocery stores, their mother would never leave the house. Max teetered on his sister's shoulders, growing tall enough to peer through the windows.

"Hurry up." May groaned. "You weigh more than a Donphan!"

Max scoffed. "Oh, so it's fine to make fun of my weight but when I do it I get a wedgy?"

"It's different for girls."

"You're more like a Muk than a girl – OOOF!"

She'd dropped him on his head. "They're obviously not home. I'm going round the back." She used the spare key in her waist pouch. The door creaked open, resounding through the silent kitchen. "Hello? Anybody home?"

Max walked in behind her, massaging his head, migraine throbbing at the sound of her voice. "Why are you shouting? You don't even think anyone's here."

"You know, Max, that bump on your head looks pretty lonely. Want me to do something about that?"

He froze up and shook his head.

"Then zip it and help me look for mom and dad."

They searched. No one in the living room. Basement echoed. The hallways were empty. Dining room quiet. Bathrooms unoccupied. They raced upstairs to the bedrooms and started with their parents'. Still no one. As they looked around, they heard the door downstairs open. It had to be them! Max was ready to rush down the staircase but May grabbed his arm. She had a better idea. Why not surprise them?

They exchanged devilish grins.

The conservative bedroom came with a dilemma. It was furnished to the minimum; a bed, a desk to support the television, a bedside lamp, curtains and a bouquet of flowers for ambience. While sleek and efficient, the space offered no suggestions in the way of hiding spots. Max suggested she try behind the curtains, but despite her small frame, the drapes could not mask the marked hump of an intruder. The only conceivable positions were under the bed and inside the wardrobe. Max believed they could provoke a decent scare by springing chaos from multiple directions through splitting up the hiding spots. Only, neither of them was keen to crawl under the bed. They argued in heated whispers.

Footsteps thumped louder and louder up the staircase.

Panicked, Max and May barged into the closet all at once, a hasty solution to their squabble. They jostled for room amidst shoes and hanging shirts, barking at one another. Compromise was forced upon them. May settled on her knees while Max hovered over her shoulder. Darkness engulfed them, save for the light filtering through the closet's panels. They could see the room through slits while eyes on the other end would struggle to notice anything amiss.

The siblings steadied their breaths. A nervy excitement raced to their toes and fingertips. Any second now their parents would waltz right into their trap. May held up her hand, showing her accomplice five fingers. She dropped one after every second, a countdown Max acknowledged with nods.

3…

2…

The bedroom door burst open and two bodies bundled onto the bed.

May's final finger froze in shock.

Her dad stirred on top of her mom, faces merged in passionate love. Her hands groped his muscular biceps while he hoisted up her knee, causing the dress to spill down her thigh, revealing more of their mom than they'd ever cared to see. Max was horrified. He thought they were too old to be doing whatever it was they were doing. May too. Words failed her. Their lips meshed, wet sounds churning her stomach. Her dad pawed beneath their mother's dress. Pre-empting May's gasp, Max smothered her mouth. Getting caught now would hurl them into a world of pain. And the kids thought _they_ were full of surprises. They couldn't pick their jaws off the ground quick enough to react.

The mortifying scene spawned an uncouth interest, a morbid car crash the eyes couldn't resist. Knowing they shouldn't be spying made it harder to blink. Eyes bulged, hearts pounded. Sensual purrs deafened the children's ears. Norman pulled off his shirt, provoking envy in his son. Max was a short, scrawny bundle of sticks compared to the powerful Gym Leader. He sometimes questioned if they shared the same genes at all. May tensed, wondering how far things would go before she summoned the courage to do something. Being three years older, she felt the responsibility on her shoulders. As Caroline straddled her husband, he groped the mounds on her bodice, rough and desperate clutches. He yanked on her shoulder straps but his haste ripped the dress down the middle. May was quick to cover her brother's eyes, certainly not something a boy his age should be seeing, let alone of his own mother.

May's composure faltered under fatigue and astonishment. Her hand trembled, withered away, leaving Max unobstructed. His mouth hung agape at the sight of his mother's bare chest. He screwed his eyes shut, eager to erase the image. The memory lingered on. Big. Bouncy. Curiosity itched on the back of his eyelids. His orbs sprung open. There they were. Stress balls in his dad's large mitts. Darkness hid the pink flush on Max's cheeks. May grew even redder when her father discarded his sweat pants. It was Max's turn to cover her eyes. But it was too late. The steel phallus was too large to be swept under the rug. Abnormally large, thought May. Max struggled to decipher the physics behind its levitation. His never did that. Then again, his was a dangling pinkie in comparison.

The siblings gaped with Hoothoot eyes as Norman overpowered their mother and mounted her. His pelvis rocked up and down with a vigorous tenacity. Max wondered where his Onix-sized member suddenly disappeared to. Strange, wet sounds pervaded the room as he bobbled on top of their mother. Her rising moans worried the children; it looked and sounded like he was hurting her. Until they heard her encourage him to pounce even faster and harder.

May had a sneaking suspicion her parents were 'making love', something she'd overheard every now and then although she never fully understood it or cared to see it taking place. It was bad enough spotting them kiss when they thought no one was around. She never hesitated telling them to get a room. Little did she know what they'd get up to in said room. She once caught her dad grabbing her mother's bottom but never had she imagined the things he was doing to her now. He'd always left his hard-headed, tough guy persona at the Gym where it weeded out meek trainers from those deserving a Balance Badge. Her mother welcomed home the gentle side to him. But there was nothing gentle about his dominance in the bedroom. Perhaps the strangest part was her mother thriving off his bold manoeuvres. The ecstasy on her face triggered something in May's body.

She didn't know where the odd tingle in her shorts had come from. All of a sudden, rubbing her upper thighs together felt marvellous. She realised Max had one hand over her left breast. Whether it was accidental or not remained a mystery. Her instincts intrigued her; her reaction, or rather, her non-reaction. Her budding mounds had been a constant source of embarrassment, especially when she hung around girls her age, who were only starting to develop bumps. It made her feel like a freak. She didn't like people looking at them, let alone touching them. Yet, when Max dared a subtle squeeze, she did nothing. Except hope he would do it again.

Max couldn't believe how soft they were. He'd never paid attention to his sister's growing chest, other than teasing her about how it looked like she was smuggling pokèballs in her shirt. It was a joke that had earned him a black eye. Despite the assault, his parents sided with May, forbidding him from making fun of his sister's body. Max didn't see the big deal. It wasn't half as rude the other things he said to her. Nonetheless, he shrugged it off and abided by his parents' orders. May had a long list of other things to make fun of anyway – and she added to it every day. But as Max fondled her supple mound, he wondered if he was allowed to say anything nice about it. Rolling it around had become addictive. In the face of her nonchalance, his groping grew bolder and rougher. Mankey see, Mankey do. Granted, he didn't realise he was mimicking his father.

If May had known the pleasures of groping, she would've never complained about her early development. Neither she nor her brother understood their actions. Stowed behind closed doors, hidden in darkness, the only thing that mattered was what their bodies understood. Pleasure formed an unspoken bond between them, overshadowing decency, transcending blood ties. May loosened her top buttons. Max didn't need further instruction. Her skin came alive as his tiny fingers grazed the top of her mounds. Max fumbled inside her shirt. The contrast between her soft flesh and hard peaks titillated him. She drew a sharp breath every time he twisted her swollen nipples. For some reason, he took pleasure in rousing her reaction. He'd never been so pleased to make May happy.

Apparently the feeling was mutual. May grabbed his crotch. Embarrassed, he asked her to wait. What for? She didn't want to wait. Having already gifted him access to her shirt, May figured she was well within her rights to bumble into his shorts. Her fingers quivered in delight at the texture of his sack. Warm, coarse, but perhaps the best word was 'cute'. It was small enough to fit in her fingers. His limp Weedle took a backseat to his pouch. She rolled his balls along her digits and squeezed them gently. He gasped, unable to contain himself. May shushed him. Thankfully, the squeaky bed and their parents' moans masked his blunder.

The siblings fondled each other, lost in each other's clothes, until a trembling groan from their dad brought them back to Earth. Something must have happened because he suddenly stopped and rolled onto their mother's side. They lied there for centuries, panting like they'd ran two marathons back to back. When they eventually ambled into the bathroom, Max and May took the opportunity to sneak out of the house and hit the reset button on their return. No surprises this time.


	2. When The Meowth Are Away…

**Closet Capers**

Chapter 2 – When The Meowth Are Away…

It never happened. They said if you told a lie long enough you'd convince yourself it was true. May desperately needed it to be true. It never happened.

What she witnessed from that closet was a nightmare no child should have to live. But she did. And there was no turning back, no unseeing the seen, no running from her own mind. Images escaped her nightmares, stalked her through the day. They hid in every expression on Max's face. He hadn't uttered a word. Was he telling himself it never happened, too? Every time she caught her parents so much as glance at each other, her stomach churned and she fled the room. She resented them for exposing her to the intimate details of their marriage. It was probably a childish reaction given their unawareness of her intrusion. By all accounts, the whole thing was her idea, and so too should be the blame. It was hard to come to terms with any of it. It should've never happened.

Max coped better than she did. Or pretended better. He carried on conversations with their parents without guilt straining his voice. His maturity surprised her, sometimes surpassing her own. As soon as they'd snuck out of the closet, she was mortified at the prospect of sitting him down and having _that_ conversation. The birds and bees one. Besides the embarrassment it entailed, she didn't know much about the subject matter herself. Thankfully, he wasn't curious enough to bring it up, and seeing him sweep it under the rug so effortlessly inspired her to do the same.

So, it never happened.

In the beginning, time at home swivelled from one uncomfortable situation to the next. Elephants in every room. Every conversation was a dance around their parents' eyes. In time, the incident sunk to the bottom of her mind. After months away, getting back into the routine of life at home was hard enough, but a welcome distraction. The awkward air began to dissipate. She and Max were at each other's throats again, an encouraging sign of normalcy, and she took great pleasure in wrestling him back in his place. Every now and then, she'd spot him glancing at her. A queer look in his eye. She couldn't quite place it, but knew him well enough to write off resentment and annoyance. It seemed more like curiosity, maybe? Intrigue? Whatever it was rang suspicious. Whenever she returned the glance, he'd turn away quickly and play innocent, which made her wonder if he wasn't planning some prank to get back at her for dominating their bouts. It wouldn't be the first time. He could be too smart and sneaky for his own good. She'd have to keep an eye on him.

. . .

A thunderbolt punctuated her parents' announcement. They were going out that evening.

May didn't dread it as much as she dreaded the implications. Namely: babysitting duty. Impsitting, demonsitting or pipsqueaksitting worked too. Max could appear an intelligent, well-behaved kid in the presence of others, but he loved to play up his annoying traits when it came to her. She clung to her father's leg. Take me with you. No can do; Norman, along with other regional Gym Leaders, had been invited to a VIP gala dinner organised by the Pokémon League, and he'd already decided his wife would take the plus-one privilege. May could grumble till her throat turned sore.

Her parents belittled her complaints, insisting it would only be a 'couple of hours', which meant anything but coming from them. They offered to up her allowance for the week. She demanded double. They fought, she fought harder, they settled. Still, it was a mere consolation considering the headache she already felt brewing.

As soon as the adults took off, Max released his dad's pokémon. Not having any of his own, he seized every opportunity to interact with them. Usually they'd goof around, have mock pokémon battles where Max looked forward to sustaining trademark attacks while taking notes. Weirdo. Tonight, however, he wanted their efforts directed at someone else. Her.

Suddenly, May felt cold and alone, shrinking across the living room from a Vigoroth, Slakoth, and Slaking, six unblinking eyes locked onto her darting pair. She backed away with her hands up. "Come on, guys. Can't we talk about this?" She laughed nervously.

"You bullied me one too many times! Now let's see you wrestle me to the ground." Max raised his finger at her. "Get her, boys! Tickle attack!"

"Wait!" May cried out as the cavalry lunged. "Why are you listening to him? He's not even your Trainer." The pokémon stopped and glanced amongst each other, asking themselves the same question. She continued to spur their doubts. "In fact, he's not a Trainer at all! If there's anyone you should be listening to, it's me. Not only did your master leave me in charge but I'm a real life Trainer – look!" She flashed some of the ribbons she'd won in contests. The trio were impressed, nodding to each other, tides turning. Max gulped. May smirked. "Now why don't we teach that imposter a lesson, huh? What'd ya say! Triple Wedgy attack!"

Max squealed as they turned on him. "W-w-wait! I may not be a Trainer, yet, but I'm the one who let you out of your PokéBalls. It's your duty to abide by me. Besides, look at all these Pokéblocks I got for you." He extended two handfuls of colourful treats. The pokémon's eyes twinkled.

May's, however, flared up. "No fair! Those are the Pokéblocks I made for my pokémon!"

The little brat stuck his tongue out. "I have no idea what you're talking about, dear sis. I found these lying about fair and square. And you know what they say . . . finders, keepers, losers –"

"Are named Max! Don't listen to him, guys. Do as I say and I'll make you all the Pokéblocks you could ever dream of."

"Pfft. And how are you gonna do that without one of these?" He wiggled her Pokéblock Case as if it belonged to him.

"Why you. . ."

"That's right, pokémon. I'm the one you should be listening to."

"No, I am!"

"I am!"

The pokémon's heads turned back and forth between them so fast their eyes spun. The siblings, immersed in their own rivalry, failed to notice the pokémon shrug their shoulders and make their own decisions. Vigoroth went after May. Slaking went after Max. Slakoth went after the Pokéblocks.

Chaos ensued.

May shrieked as the lumbering, oversized oaf flattened the living room table in an attempt to pounce on her. Max hid under the cushions only for his pursuer to lift the coach and shake him out of his refuge. Nothing was safe – not furniture, not vases, not even chandeliers. The pokémon showed little concern for their surroundings as they chased the children up staircases, down staircases, under tables, over tables, through the kitchen, dining room, garden, patio, everywhere, until May wised up to something she should've considered from the get-go. She summoned her own pokémon, and with a little aid, Blaziken and Wartortle helped seal the rebels back into their PokéBalls before the house was completely demolished.

May and Max stood in the centre of the living room, shell-shocked at the disorder all around them, rain pattering in the silence.

"Well, I better get started on my homework," said Max, tiptoeing away.

"Not so fast." She snatched the back of his collar. "If you try to Weedle your way out of this, I'm gonna tell dad you took his pokémon without permission and you're the one who broke his favourite glass Spinda."

"Wha- ! But – "

"Who do you think they're gonna believe, you or me?" His silenced said it all. "Now," continued May. "Where did you say you were going?"

Max dragged his feet. "To get a broom and duster. . ."

"That's what I thought," chimed May.

While Max tidied up the mess, she took on the responsibility of preparing dinner. She was not a chef by any means when it came to people food. Pity humans couldn't eat Pokéblocks. It was times like this she missed Brock. He'd whip up something in his sleep. All she could rely on was memories of her mother in front of the stove. She tried to mimic her pan-roasted chicken recipe. Her attempt went up in flames, and nearly took the house with it, if not for Wartortle. Instead of being grateful, Max complained about everything from the crispy carrots to how she set the table, apparently putting the forks and knives on the wrong flanks. Like anyone cared about that. What he really should've worried about was finding poison in his food, the little brat. He annoyed her further when he begged her _not_ to make dessert.

Between dinner, dishes and rallying rowdy pokémon, May's limbs were about to fall off. She dropped on the sofa and felt she'd never muster the strength to get up again. It was nearing nine and, surprise surprise, her parents showed no signs of an imminent return, granted, they had called to check up on them half an hour ago, a conversation full of awkward half-truths. Now all May wanted to do was fall asleep on the couch watching TV, perhaps some soppy rom-com. She reached for the remote, but fingertips away, a sneaky little hand snatched it.

She shot up immediately. "Hey! What do you think you're doing? I'm watching."

"You'll get your turn," said Max, flipping through the channels.

"Isn't it your bedtime?"

"Firstly," he said, checking his wristwatch. "I have about six minutes to go. Secondly, it's all the more reason for me to watch first."

"Six minutes?!" she exclaimed, incredulous. What difference would six minutes make? "You must be joking. Give me the remote." She reached and he hid it behind his back. "Really? How mature of you, Max. Now give it!" She tried again, he swayed out the way. Her eyebrow twitched.

The next ten minutes were spent grappling on the sofa. Max did everything short of biting to protect his precious. The TV flickered from channel to channel throughout the skirmish. May's strength gave her the edge over the little munchkin but she resorted to the deft art of tickling to loosen his grip. The last laugh was hers once more as he raised the remote high in the air like a trophy. He surprised her, springing from defeat to tackle her onto the cushions, the prize tumbling onto the floor, landing on one final station. Both tried to scramble for it and both realised they were ensnared in the other's bind, a pretzel of immovable limbs.

"Fine." May huffed. "Guess we'll just watch whatever's on."

"Fine."

Except, the channel it had settled on was notorious for playing horror flicks, and one happened to be on. They both knew their parents would never let them watch it. May felt apprehensive about going on, partly out of guilt, partly out of fear. She didn't like seeing spooky things at this time of night. Neither did her little brother. She counted on him folding and running off to bed, but if his stubborn grip was anything to go by, he was hoping the same of her. Well, she wasn't about to lose to him no matter what. So the pair suffered together out of pure childishness.

The lacklustre plot revolved around a bunch of young pokémon trainers – like her, perhaps – stumbling into an old mansion haunted by a bunch of ghost pokémon. Not just any ghost pokémon either. Mutated Gengar and Golurk spooking them throughout the house, chasing them through rooms, moving objects, locking doors, and eventually bringing their days to an end in the most gruesome, mortifying ways the writers could think of. May pressed her lids tight during each kill, but tried to peel an eye open to study Max, lest he think his big sister was a scaredy-cat. She could tell he was trying to act brave too. But when loud, sudden sounds jumped out of the screen, their bodies jerked on their own accord. Horrid rain pelting on the roof and windows added to the ambience. Neither was conscious that their embrace had morphed from one of ill-intent to one of comfort. Lightning flashed, and with a loud bang, tripped all the power in the house.

May and Max trembled in each other's arms, alone in the clutches of darkness, silently praying for their parents' return.

"W-well, no use staying up," said May, yearning for the safety of her blankets. "Might as well hit the hay. Who knows when mom and dad will be back?"

"Right," said Max, who had to clear his throat and say it again. "Good night then. . ."

"Good night."

May thought curling under the sheets would make her feel safer. Dead wrong. The rain was relentless, a downpour of Meowth and Growlithe, beating on her window like a famished beast trying to get in. Even cowering beneath the blankets couldn't mask the glares of lightning, contorting ordinary objects in her room into deformed creatures out to get her; the life-sized Snorlax plushie became a flesh-eating scarecrow with every flash. Every little sound could be a ghoul or monster creeping into her bedroom. Damnit, why did she watch that stupid B-rated movie? She relived those deaths over and over in her head. Any single one of them could happen to her at any moment. The hairs on her neck shivered, let alone her body. Then, she heard her bedroom door creak open.

Adrenaline flooded her system and she pointed a flashlight at the intruder. It wasn't the 60 foot-tall, shark-toothed Gengar from the movie; it was a little boy in pyjamas cowering from the glare shone on his face.

"Max?" she whispered, half-shocked, half-relieved. In fact, her relief was so loud she had to feign anger to mask any trepidation. "What do you think you're doing?"

"May . . . I'm scared." The admission left her speechless. She wasn't used to Max being so blunt. Although she'd never admit it, she fed off his confidence at times, and seeing him vulnerable heightened her own fears. Sometimes she forgot he was a little boy. It wasn't the first time he sought refuge in her room on a nightmarish evening, granted, the last time he did he was about three. Thunder struck, shaking them both to their core. "Alright, alright," said May, finally. "But only for tonight."

She made room on her bed. The second he crawled in, the storm taunted them again, throwing them into each other's arms. May's blush went hidden in the darkness. "Get off me," she snarled. "No crossing my half of the bed."

"Whatever," said Max, turning his back.

She mirrored the gesture in body and spirit, but not in mind. As fed up as she acted, she appreciated the comfort of another warm body an arm's reach away. It made the night that little less dark and the storm that little bit quieter. Favour for a favour. It was no coincidence she only managed to sleep with Max at her side. Although, she had no idea she'd been repeating 'it never happened' throughout her slumber, and when she snapped out of it, she woke to something more troubling than her nightmare.

Somehow, her subconscious body had crossed the very boundaries she had setup herself, re-arranging her in a spooning position against Max who looked no different than she remembered before falling asleep. With her cheek atop his, she absorbed his heat and felt his soft snores through her skin. Her arm was draped over his shoulder and her leg lifted over his hip. What the hell was she doing? She shuddered to think what he'd say if he woke up right there and then, with her snuggling him like a fearful child. He'd never let her live it down, and worse, tell all her friends about it. That should've been motivation enough for her to back away, but inertia was hard to resist, particularly on a haunting night like this, and besides, if he hadn't woken up yet despite this overbearing physical contact, what were the chances he would randomly do so now? She might as well have soaked up the warmth while she could and, the instant he stirred, pull away and play dead. Perfect plan in her mind.

She tried to delve back into her dreams to investigate her sudden affinity for clinging onto Max. It hadn't been a nightmare, not in the sense of big, bad and scary. The images scattered in her head didn't form a clear picture but the emotions they roused couldn't be more vivid. The guilt of being somewhere she shouldn't have been and the nagging curiosity that made her stay. But there was more to it.

A quaint emotion she'd discovered. She wasn't sure she'd even call it an emotion; it was more of a sensation, a tingle, and in the strangest of places. She didn't have a name for this new, tickly, torturous sensation, never experienced it growing up, although she'd never walked in on her parents then either. Something about that closet, something about seeing what she did awakened this tingle, this itch, and reliving the scene through memories and dreams, brought it rushing back to her core. It was kind of like having butterflies, except a little lower. She didn't know what to do with herself whenever a flurry arose. Like any itch, applying some form of touch offered appease, but it felt wrong fooling around 'down there'. She envisioned her mother declaring it's not something a lady would do. Every time May gave into herself, she felt ashamed, and ensured no one was there to spot her indecency. This time however, she faced an unforeseen complication: the boy lying right in front of her.

To make matters worse, the tingle blared at its fiercest. She wondered if her recent dream had anything to do with it, or her body, pressing against Max. Either way, her budding breasts continued to surprise her, growing by the day in mass and sensitivity. Her nipples felt through the thinness of her nightie. They loved to be touched, she'd learned, brushing against random objects accidentally. However, there was nothing accidental about her subtle chest movements up and down her brother's back. She couldn't help how the friction made her peaks feel hot and charged. She berated herself mentally, but on the other hand, she saw no harm; he wasn't complaining, granted he wasn't awake to do so. She peeked over his shoulder to where his hand rested on the bed. Memories of it rummaging down her shirt assaulted her all at once. The tingling intensified.

She wrenched her eyes away. No, it never happened. It could never happen again. Not like this, not ever. Those were her thoughts moments before she realised it wasn't just her chest grinding against Max anymore.

Sliding her thigh above his hip lifted the hem of her nightgown and invited a warm draft between her legs, wind to her growing fire. The yearning was spreading, harder to contain, impossible to ignore. Her inner thigh found joy on the cotton of his jammies, up, down and up again, encouraging her to scoot closer, reach higher up her leg, closer and closer to where the itch burned most. All the while she kept an ear on his breathing; she predicted the first signs of his waking would come from a change in rhythm. It was all steady and so were her movements.

Just a little longer, she said to herself, then she'd go to sleep and forget this ever happened. He'd never know. If there was ever a window to escape and get away with it, it was now. But May had trouble telling that to her body, addicted to the thrills it could stir simply from rubbing against another body; in her current state, she wasn't sure it even had to be a body or a living thing – Max just happened to be the closest prop, and a good one at that. She would've never guessed something so crude could feel so amazing. Just a little longer and then what? As she continued to grind against her comatose brother, she realised she didn't have the answer to that. She told herself she'd stop but what would transpire to ensure that? It wasn't like the tingling was petering out. Quite the opposite.

May's kneading drove her to craving something more. Her crotch felt one rub away from catching fire. She reached into the sheets and got the shock of her life. Her panties were wet. Although she'd experienced a bit of moisture exploring herself before, it had never been enough to dampen her undergarments. She was embarrassed and confused, pondering on whether she'd just wet herself. The finger she brought to her nose smelt nothing like pee. Relieved, but more confused, she probed the one part of her body she knew the least about. The inner linings of her sex were particularly slippery but not unpleasant. Her digit skidded down her centre, a joyous waterslide, dipping between her folds ever so lightly. Parting her nether lips felt delightful, especially towards the bottom, though she couldn't fathom why. She was often tempted to wedge a finger down there and see how far she could go, but the whole prospect was daunting, not worth the risk of injury, and besides, she derived plenty of pleasure skirting about the area. As she fondled her bits, the sight of Max's hand recaptured her imagination.

Excitement caught in her throat, forcing her to swallow as she lifted his appendage off the bed, heavier than usual. Slowly, and with vigilance over his consciousness, she lowered him until a bulge the shape of his hand filled her panties. She couldn't believe what she'd done, and without Max stirring an eyelid. Back in the closet, she remembered how he'd shown no hesitance in touching her breasts, and she reassured herself he'd feel the same about her actions now, perhaps a desperate attempt to absolve her guilt. Nonetheless, she quickly learned to appreciate the touch of another over the familiarity of her own hand. It simply felt better.

She pressed down on the handprint. The bundle of tiny, little digits rubbed against her heat, a bumpy, uneven scratch to her itch, but an effective one all the same. She'd observed Max sleeping like a rock during their journeys although she'd never dreamt of pulling something like this. Sheets ruffled and stirred in the quiet night. The randy girl tucked him deeper into her panties and clamped her thighs around his touch, squeezing on him desperately. His fingers spread her juices about her petals and upper thighs. She had to remind herself to breathe. Amidst the bustle of pressing down his hand, she felt something small poke inside her. The shock of being penetrated evaporated quickly in clouds of bliss. She manipulated his digit further, gasping silently as it slipped deeper into her sleek folds. A part of another human being was actually inside her. What a strange concept! May thought she finally figured out where her father's member had disappeared to while he was rocking on top of her mom.

Max groaned an incoherent, mumbling sound.

Her heart jumped. In seconds, she pulled him out of from under her nightie and turned to face the wall, pressing her eyes closed. Heart pounding, she heard him shift behind her, yawn, shift some more, then fall silent. She opened her eyes again. Her irises rolled about as she tried to work out his state of consciousness. When she built up the courage to look, she found him lying still on his back, blanket tossed askew. She waved in front of his face. Nothing. Snapped three times. Nothing. Whispered his name. Nothing. He was back to being a rock. And it rejuvenated her tingle.

She studied his vacant face. He looked like someone else without his glasses. Someone not quite her brother. It made it easier to distance herself from him and from her actions. She traced a finger along the marks left on his skin from the arms of his spectacles. His lips were parted about half a fingertip wide and she floated her ear close enough to hear soft exhales. It was the least annoying she'd heard him in years. Every so often he'd purse his lips and she deduced it was an involuntary twitch. Cute, in a way, he slept like a widdle baby. Granted, he acted like one when he was awake too. She knew she couldn't wait too long or she'd miss this golden opportunity.

May dove into the sheets and propped her forearms on either side of his legs. As she rose above his crotch, the blanket slid halfway down her back. Sucking in her breath subconsciously, she gripped his waistband and tugged southwards in brief increments, careful not to disrupt him. After overcoming his rump, his pyjama bottoms and underwear slid down his thighs smoothly. Her breath hitched as she hovered above his naked crotch. A flash of lightning reminded her the storm was ongoing, but more interestingly, revealed the contour of his privates with vivid colouration. She reacquainted herself with the texture of male genitalia, remembering how fun it was to play with his warm, little sack. With much willpower, her focus turned to his willy. She stroked it, gleaning a feel of its smooth texture. Boys were so weird and complicated. The size difference between his and her dad's mystified her. She recalled how the latter's kept growing and growing, and yearned to see Max's do the same. She tried everything she remembered her mother doing. None of it worked. Not even licking or sucking. Frustrating, considering the odd taste she had to put up with.

May gave up trying to breathe life into his limp member, and instead, slid her nightgown's sleeve down one shoulder, exposing her braless teat to the open air. Given the sensitivity of her breasts, and the recollection of her father sucking on her mother's, the idea came to her naturally. May lowered her chest towards her brother's mouth with shaky nerves. She didn't know what to expect, but she hit the jackpot when his lips pursed on her arrival. The timely gesture saw the tip of his tongue graze her protruding nipple. May gasped as her body seemed to shut down from pleasure overload. Muscles tightened, toes curled. She fought to keep her body from crumbling on top of him as spasms of ecstasy racked her top to bottom. When it all subsided, she scooted back to her side of the bed, tired and flushed.

She curled up in the blankets wondering what happened. Had she and Max just made love? Would they have to get married now? Was she going to have his babies? She didn't want to marry Max! He was her brother. May begged and pleaded to every Legendary she knew not to let that happen.

But something did happen tonight. And something did happen in that closet.


	3. Stung By A Beedrill

**Closet Capers**

Chapter 3 – Stung By A Beedrill

Strange noises pulled Max out of his slumber. It sounded like the purrs of a small pokémon. But what was a pokémon doing in his bedroom? His groggy vision took a moment to stabilise, and as it did, another mystery developed all around him. The wall paint, the scent of jasmine, the stuffed Snorlax in the corner . . . he didn't need his glasses to tell him this was _not_ his room.

Raindrops played a mellow song on the window. It might've lured him back to dreamland if the purring sounds hadn't persisted. Max wouldn't find peace until he determined its source. Of all his waking senses, touch trailed behind the others. He only realised he could feel anything after he thought about why he couldn't. Strange. Something was prodding at him below the waist, a ticklish sensation fumbling in his pyjamas. It made him giggle on the inside. The touches were wet and curious, and he realised they coincided with the purrs he'd been hearing since the beginning. Except, it sounded more like humming now. Whatever pokémon was licking him sure was enjoying itself. Wait a minute, what if it was trying to eat him? Just as the thought crossed his mind, he felt something like a vacuum pull in his weenie, albeit with a warm, wet suction. He tried to formulate what pokémon it could be in his head before he realised the simple act of looking down could solve the mystery.

There was a large hump in the sheets, he noted with dread. It looked the size of a beach ball and bobbed up and down his crotch area. The terror of being eaten struck him despite the absence of any associated pain. He felt its tongue coiling around his Weedle like an Ekans. He had to stop it, and had to stop it now. Gulping down fear, he tossed back the sheets concealing the monstrosity, then he froze in shock.

"May?"

His big sister looked up with sparkling blue eyes and a mouthful of penis. "It's okay, Max," she purred. "I want to make you feel good. Can you keep a secret?"

"May," he repeated, dumbfounded. Then he nodded furiously as his senses returned.

With a devious smile, she threw the covers over herself once more and took him into her mouth. Knowing it was May all along diminished his fears. He lied back, face burning beet red as her sweet lips taught him pleasures unknown. It got better and better, and better, building towards something, some pinnacle, some release. Tension bulging, rising. Then, without warning, his eyes flew open.

Sunshine replaced the storm. Max sat up in a sweat, checked left, right, under the covers. May's disappearance confirmed his suspicions. A dream.

"Not again," he groaned, falling back with hands over his face. An odd scent emanated from his fingers. "Huh?"

. . .

It was getting harder and harder for Max not to peep at his sister. Although she looked the same, something about the way he took her in had changed; it was like seeing the same painting 1000 times and only spotting the Ditto in the background on the 1001st. Suddenly, the landscape of her chest earned his appreciation. After having snuck a peek at his mom topless, he'd developed a curiosity for what May might've looked like, and the nipples prodding at her shirt jogged his imagination. From his understanding that was where babies suckled milk from their mother's bosom, but it didn't explain what business dad had gorging himself with mom's breasts, nor did it explain why the thought of trying it on May enticed Max. He knew better than to walk up to her with the proposition though. The closest he'd come to re-living the wonders of her bosom was groping papayas while fantasising. Sometimes he'd instigate fights then smile in silence when she came after him. Wrestling May welcomed all sorts of 'accidental' physical contact. He walked away feeling like a winner more often than she realised. There was something hopelessly wrong with him and he knew it.

The family took a drive to the Petalburg City Shopping Mall, Caroline chattering about something she'd seen on TV, Norman pretending to listen when he really had one ear on the radio, Max and May squabbling in the backseat, a typical outing for the group. The parents made a point of scolding their children. Family is everything, they lectured, and siblings ought to take care of each other. When Max eyed his bossy sister, he wasn't filled with some innate desire to protect her; if anything, he wanted to be the one doing harm. They huffed at the suggestion, sat across opposite ends of the backseat, arms folded. Caroline sighed.

Max and his dad were skimming through shorts at the clothing store when Caroline and May opted to part ways from them.

"What's that about?" He watched them disappear down the aisle.

"Oh that? It's a big day for your sister," said Norman.

"It is?" Couldn't be Thanksgiving. Couldn't be her birthday. Couldn't be national Pick On Max day – well, that was every day. Max scratched his head to no avail. "What's the occasion?"

Norman burst into nervous chuckles and a bout of redcheeks. "I've already said too much, son. It's just girl stuff, you know, nothing we need to concern ourselves with." He picked out a pair of sweatpants that looked like every other pair in his wardrobe. "What do you think of these?"

"Real original, dad." Max poked his head through the pant legs. "What do you mean 'girl stuff'?"

Norman dropped the sweatpants over his face. "Nevermind that." But Max followed him around the store until he succumbed to the pestering. "Listen," whispered Norman, paranoid of eavesdroppers. "Today your mom is buying May her first bra."

"Oh…" That made sense. It was long overdue.

"Your sister is a little shy about it. I promised I wouldn't tell anyone. Think you can keep it to yourself?"

"Not a problem," said Max, beaming.

Caroline and May re-joined them hauling oversized shopping bags. Jeez, how many did they buy? Max wasted no time slithering up to May. "Say, what you got there, sis?"

"None of your business, dweeb."

"Defensive much? I just asked a simple question."

"And I gave you a simple answer."

"C'mon, let me see." Max pretended to swipe at her bag.

She pulled it away, turning ghost white. "Knock it off."

His dad never said anything about not teasing, thought Max. Every time he feigned a move, her expression turned priceless. He had no intention of actually grabbing her bag but she'd never believe it after an accidental brush knocked it out of her grasp. Bras and panties tumbled out for the whole shopping mall to see. Stunned expressions circled the scene. All fun and games and then May punched him in the face.

The silent drive home felt twice the distance. She hadn't said a word since they got back or even looked at him. The black-eyed boy considered an apology, but if she was going to act like a baby about it, why should he bother? In his book, she owed him an apology too; if people went around assaulting others for innocent mistakes, the whole world would be crippled.

The gulf between them grew larger and quieter, neither ready to concede fault. After hours of stubbornness, their parents were concerned about the lack of bickering. Caroline sat her son down.

"You know, you should really consider apologising to your sister."

"Oh yeah? And why's that?"

"Because she's leaving tomorrow." Max tried to hide the surprise on his face, but something must've given him away, urging her to answer his unasked questions. "The whole point of the shopping trip was to get her supplies. She says she misses life on the road, the contests, the adventures, even Team Rocket. Apparently since she's been back, things have been 'weird' at home, whatever that means."

Max might've had an idea…

"I think she just needs her space, needs to get away and breathe a little," said Caroline. "Although she'd never admit it, she'd feel a lot happier leaving on good terms with you. Just a thought," she nudged, before humming merrily along.

Max regarded the broken spectacles on his lap with melancholy. He'd bugged her one too many times and she was leaving to get away from him. She hadn't even told him she was going, let alone invite him to tag along like last time. That saddened him for reasons beyond his logic. Sure, they tested each other's patience, and would continue to if he went, but he'd liked to think any other way wouldn't be wholesome, wouldn't feel like siblings, like Max and May. Today must've been the final straw for her. Reflecting on his antics, he didn't see himself; he saw an immature, vexing, little brat who deserved nothing short of a punch to the face. But to leave? Because of that? It felt harsh. It felt worse than his glasses looked in the aftermath of her retribution.

Max spent the rest of the day struggling to mend his eyewear. He and cellotape didn't get along but at least he was trying, not walking away from something he needed to make his life whole. Another set of spectacles lied in his dresser, but he wouldn't give up on this one.

Regret and confusion stared him back through the cracked lens. He still wanted to hear it from her. He needed to know why she was leaving, why she was abandoning him. Like she hadn't done anything in the past to make him want to explode. The glasses kept coming apart as frustration grated his nerves. Why? He never thought he'd see the day the silent treatment would bug him. Hours trudged on without a word between them. Nothing but an apology was the key to unlocking conversation. Thanks to their stubbornness, the possibility of not speaking before she left became more and more likely by the hour. Max tucked into his sheets at night and leaned towards the bedside table, still fidgeting with his spectacles under the lamp. He practically leapt at a knock on his door, but sunk again when it turned out to be his mom bidding him a good night.

Max woke up an inch from sliding off the bed. Cellotape was all over his fingers. Sunlight shone on a pair of spectacles on the bedside table, several coils of tape holding the bridge together. The left arm that had been dangling, a breath away from detachment, kept sturdy as he lifted the glasses and put them on. The last thing he remembered was working on them, and despite the crack obscuring his view, he considered his sleepless efforts a success.

Then he realised it was morning.

May could be leaving any second, if she hadn't already. In that moment, any reservation Max had of sticking to his guns, any childish victory he saw in keeping silent, any sense of indignation he'd clung on to, all of it, meant absolutely nothing. He threw his blankets aside and sprinted across the hall to his sister's room.

The bedroom door flew open, casting wind at May who'd jumped in surprise, shrieking as the towel slid down her bare legs. Max managed two words before the awkward situation stopped his mouth from working. Dumbfounded, his gaze started at the towel around her feet, then climbed up her slim legs, and before he knew what he was doing, his eyes were glued to the modest, pink mounds on her chest. Max grasped the error of his ways when her face flared up in rage and embarrassment, yet his feet refused to move, petrified at his impending death, and stubborn with curiosity. It all ended with a fist zooming in on his face.

As the boy waddled down the staircase, his mom noticed only one set of footsteps. "Max, did you tell your sister to come down for breakfast?" asked Caroline.

"Yes, Mom," he droned out of instinct, taking his place at the kitchen table.

"Then where is she? What is it with pokémon trainers always starting journeys late anyway?" She turned around to put plates on the table and nearly dropped them at the sight of her son. "Oh my God, Max. Again?" He sported two black eyes beneath shattered spectacles teetering on his nose lopsidedly. Caroline shook her head. "You two are going to be the death of me."

Norman emerged behind him and put a hand on his shoulder. "Morning, son. Whoa! What happened to . . . you know what? I'm not even going to ask."

When May came downstairs, she ignored the stool next to Max at the kitchen bar, settling for the far end instead, clearly still in a huff. So much for trying to clear the air.

Girls sure had weird bodies. Although Max had seen more of his mother than he could bear, he realised he'd never seen the female form in full frontal nudity. Until this morning. His short-sighted intrusion wised him up to another perplexing reality – May had nothing hanging between her legs. He knew there were differences between boys and girls but he expected to see . . . something. Something more than a simple slit. Did the doctor accidentally cut hers off at birth? Is that why she was so upset? Was she always like that? Where did she pee from? Max didn't realise he was staring out the corner of his eye. As he drifted off in a haze trying to figure out his sister's private parts, the specimen in question shot him a glare.

"What are you looking at?"

Startled, Max toppled over his stool, adding another injury to his head.

After breakfast the family gathered on the porch to see off May.

"Are you sure you don't want to take your brother along?" asked Caroline.

May scoffed. "Very sure."

Caroline expected as much. "Well, Max, you should at least give your sister a hug. She could be gone for a very long time."

Yeah, that wasn't going to happen, thought Max. Their parents were disappointed watching them exchange 'later' for final goodbyes.

May rode off on her bicycle, waving back, happy as can be. Norman and Caroline returned the farewell gesture. Max didn't bother unfolding his crossed arms. Although, deep down, even he knew it was an act.

She was gone. Max kept thinking about how she described her time at home. _Weird_. It was weird for him too, literally from the second they stepped through the front door. He never looked at May the same since leaving that closet. And he feared he never would. Even without understanding the intricacies of it, he knew something perverse happened in the darkness. He had his hand down her shirt. She had hers down his shorts. He didn't understand why it was bad, but it must've been, considering their silent oath never to talk about it. But that didn't stop him thinking about it.

Maybe it was a good thing she left. Besides the place being more peaceful, he hoped the distance would put their awkward shenanigans out of mind.

On the way to his room, he couldn't help glance down the hallway and notice her bedroom door slightly ajar. He wandered in without really knowing what his intentions were – maybe surrounding himself with her belongings would soften the blow of her departure. As he glanced around the room he'd slept in not too many nights ago, cowering from that storm, one curiosity led to the other. Her scent warmed the air. He was like a tourist in a museum, browsing through all her possessions, taking the time he'd never have with her around. His exploration led him to her drawers, and out of sheer boredom, he opened the bottom shelf. A treasure-trove of bras and panties stole his breath.

He closed it immediately, embarrassed at what he'd stumbled upon. His fear of getting caught, and the subsequent consequences, lurked in his consciousness despite the fact she could be halfway to Fortree City for all he knew. It was silly to worry. Besides, he'd run out of eyes to blacken at this point.

Max used two fingers to fish a bra from the heap, delicate as if it could morph into a Seviper at any second and Poison Sting him to death. May definitely wouldn't like this. He'd gathered she was big for her age but seeing the size of these cups enhanced his perspective. Stretching it out, he marvelled at its width and elasticity. He played with it, felt it, pulled it, smelt it, and even tried it on, although it fell to his waist. A pair of panties earned his interest next. Out of everything in the room, it housed the strongest scent of May. Oddly familiar too. He realised her panties smelt distinctly like his hand had when he woke up although he'd yet to put together why that was. He scrunched her undergarments into a ball and inhaled until his nose creased. It was a wonderful drug, corrupting his senses, limiting his cognisance. It wouldn't let him put it down. As he stood up, he stumbled backwards and the scent knocked him off his feet, leaving him sprawled out on her bed, face in the clouds.

Traces of her fragrance dotted the sheets. Touching the fabric reminded him of May, reminded him of that night. With her panties masking the bottom half of his face and his fingers curling in the blankets, memories of her body manifested through a pink haze. He remembered all of it. The towel slipped away slower than it had in real-time, building stronger anticipation, accelerating blood flow. His mind's eye focused a spotlight on where her willy should've been, still coming to terms with how it could be devoid of any discernible parts. It was so bare, so simple, yet so entrancing. Just one vertical, little line. Had he missed something? Such a mundane crevice shouldn't have held his attention for more than three seconds. Yet when it happened to lie on that spot on his sister's naked body, he felt a magnetic pull towards it. He wanted to get close enough to see it, to _really_ see it, and if her panties were a reliable sample, maybe even sniff it. Or taste it.

Ugh. Max should've been repulsed with himself but the awful truth was he wasn't. Damn May and her stupid plan of hiding in that closet. If it wasn't for her, they wouldn't be haunted by unsavoury images of their parents. Things at home wouldn't have gotten weird. She wouldn't have left. He wouldn't have been stuck at home fantasising about her like this…

Her breasts. Her slit. Her smell. His shorts became uncomfortably tight. Max didn't know what was going on. He unfastened his belt to investigate. As soon as his shorts came down, his willy flopped onto his abdomen, and it was puffier than he'd ever seen it before, as if it had been stung by a Beedrill. He feared something might've gone wrong, except he didn't feel pain in the slightest. In fact, rubbing it felt kind of nice. He remembered his father's getting bigger too so it couldn't be a bad thing? His growing confidence bolstered hearty strokes, and then he sustained some weird, euphoric brain freeze, and suddenly thick, white pee was oozing out of his end.

He lied deathly still, flabbergasted at what happened, at how merely thinking about May brought it out of him. Something told him her absence wouldn't mark the end of all the weirdness after all. It was the beginning.


	4. Creep

**Closet Capers**

Chapter 4 – Creep

87 hours, 23 minutes and 11 seconds until the grand showdown. Max couldn't sleep. The prospect of success and the embarrassment of failure seesawed on his nerves. He swung from calm to shaking-like-a-leaf to need-more-coffee to calm again then fret and denial. Growing up, everyone believed in his potential to become a great Pokémon Researcher but not many gave him a hope of becoming a great Pokémon Trainer. Eight years and eight badges later, about to make his stand in Ever Grande City, he'd be facing more than the elite across the field; he'd be challenging all the detractors along the way. His achievements were commendable, but nothing short of victory in the Hoenn League would rank as success in his mind. He was so close it was scary to think about.

From a snotty, know-it-all kid to a gangly bundle of teenage bones, Max learned more about himself on his journeys than he would have at home. It was a battle convincing his parents to let him travel alone, even after he'd turn ten, the age most Pokémon Trainers started their careers. His mom didn't like it. But his Gym Leader dad understood and championed his campaign. Looking back at how clumsy he was, every second a struggle to keep his spectacles from sliding off his bony face, he couldn't blame his mom for lacking faith. He thought he was so smart. And now, well, he knew he was so smart. Anyone who cared to disagree could talk to his badges.

Norman and Caroline appeared on a video call beaming with pride. They congratulated him on making it so far. The island was worlds away from home but they promised to be there to support him.

"Did you send your sister a ticket too?" asked Caroline.

He felt a pang of . . . something. "Er, no…"

"I can't believe you still haven't crossed paths with May since leaving," said Norman. "Just goes to show how big our little world is."

"Yeah," said Max. He suspected May had jumped regions by now. There were so many to conquer these days.

"Well that's worrying." Caroline fretted. "If we don't make it, you won't have any family there to support you!"

From Petalburg City to Ever Grand City, it would take at least three days with the fastest cruiser he knew. They'd be cutting it close. "Well then you better make it!" Max ended the call encouraging them to get up and set off already.

With the distraction turned off, his nerves returned in a flurry. He was actually going to be competing in Ever Grand City!

Max could only go over strategy in his head so many times. Doing something active might take the edge off. He put on his trainers and stepped out for a walk, releasing Gallade for company.

The neighbourhood was loud with sound and colour, a civilisation of pokémon lovers, contests and battles lighting up the squares, pokémon wowing crowds with circus tricks. These people lived and breathed pokémon as he would expect of an island home to the Elite Four. He was sure there were saner places on the isle but he welcomed all the excitement. It helped drown out the commotion in his head. He and Gallade stopped to spectate some of the festivities, particularly pokémon battles, analysing everything the trainers did wrong. The urge to blurt out obvious techniques and counter manoeuvres overwhelmed him, granted, it was always easier knowing what to do when you weren't the one who had to do it. A tap on the shoulder pulled him out of a fierce bout between a Hariyama and an Aggron. He was annoyed until he recognised the wool hat that popped up.

It gave her away before her face reached his eyes. Blue bangs to match her blue irises, and knowing Dawn, it could very well be deliberate. She wore a burgundy coat and seemingly nothing else until her socks and boots appeared. The outfit contradicted itself but he wasn't about to challenge her on matters of fashion. Besides, if she wanted to show off her leggy charm, he'd be daft to try and stop her.

"So . . . we meet again," said Dawn.

"So . . . we do."

Despite the lacklustre response, Max was thrilled to see a familiar face. He and Dawn had never travelled together, but by miraculous coincidences, bumped into each other over a dozen times during their respective journeys. It was like how Team Rocket harassed Ash and his Pikachu, except a lot less often, never planned and immeasurably mutual. They'd known nothing about each other save for the fact they'd both travelled with Ash and Brock at some point. Nonetheless, it was all the foundation they needed to build some kind of chance, casual, on-and-off camaraderie. He really didn't know how else to describe it. Whatever it was, it worked. Her ambition for coordinating reminded him of his big sister; sometimes he wondered if that's why he felt so comfortable around her. She might've been the same age as May too, but whenever he tried to ask, all he got was 'old enough'. And here he thought girls only started misconstruing the years when they hit 30.

Max and Dawn ambled around the city, catching each other up on the past several months since they'd last met. It turned out she came to town chasing a prestigious Pokémon Contest. When he broke the news of competing at the Ever Grande Conference, she was full of praise and envy.

Two teenage girls encroached on their private conversation out of the blue. One brunette was clad in tiny, denim cut-offs and the other in tights and yellow shorts, both drawing attention to their shapely figures. After introducing themselves as Hilda and Rosa, they admitted to recognising Max from The Magenta League and wanted his signature on their shirts. He obliged with pleasure. Given his sexualisation at a young age, by the time Max reached double figures he was ready to stick it in anything wearing a skirt, and with his success beaming like a beacon for girls, he often did. He tried to keep focused as he signed over Rosa's bursting shirt. If Dawn hadn't been standing beside him, he would've snuck his number right next to the autographs.

"Maxy, you're gonna win, right?" asked Hilda.

Dawn sniggered in the background at his new nickname.

He ignored her. "Uh, yeah, well, you know, I'll try."

"Well, best believe Rosa and I are going to be cheering you on all the way!"

"Thanks," he said, scraping all the confidence he could.

They kissed him on either cheek before turning on the balls of their feet. His gaze descended on their butts almost instantly. It was painful watching them walk away.

"Go on." Dawn jerked her head in their direction. "You're not going to screw them up and down, sideways and clockwise standing here."

"Huh? What?" said Max, wearing a dumb expression.

Dawn stifled a laugh. "You're not as discrete as you think."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Mhm." She nodded along. "I don't know why you have to hide it from me. Last time I checked we were never dating. Anyway, you're going to try to win? That doesn't sound like the cocky, smartass Max I know."

"Aw, you called me smart."

"Drop the act. I can tell you're nervous about your match. To be honest, I'm nervous about the contest too." She perked up as an idea sprung to mind. "I know just the thing to help us relax and keep cool."

She took him by the wrist to an ice cream parlour she'd discovered minutes after arriving on the island. They enjoyed raspberry ripple cones in an outdoors booth. Well, her more than him. The creamy, sugary delight couldn't distance him from his mind for long. Those girls trying to be nice had added more pressure than they realised. It wasn't just about them, but all the fangirls, fanboys, kids, and admirers standing behind him. He couldn't afford to fall.

Dawn watched a gloop of his ice cream droop on the table. She sighed. "This isn't working. You're thinking too much. There's no need to –"

"Worry," said Max. "I know. I can't help it."

"Hmmmmm. You know what helps me when I'm in a really stressful situation? Shopping!"

"Figures. Every time we meet up, you drag me along to carry your bags."

"Those are some pretty heavy bags to be fair."

"I can't see how piling on aching muscles will help."

"Fair enough." She thought some more. "Well…" She leaned over the table, a cunning look in her eyes, her voice turning low and milky. "We could always try . . . 'that other thing' we usually do when we meet up." Her tongue slowly climbed up his scoops of dessert, the whitish cream reminiscent of another substance he'd seen her handle just as deliciously. She licked her fingers dry without taking her eyes off him.

As Max gaped, mouth hung ajar, his ice cream dropped to the table with a splat.

. . .

Foreplay didn't make it past the doorstep. Entangled in a feverous kiss, Max had the bluenette backpedalling as he groped her upper thighs and beyond, feeling her ass and panties beneath the mercifully short coat. Dawn had barely kicked off her boots when the bed knocked the back of her knees and toppled her over. He followed her onto the sheets while prolonging the kiss. Without breaking his momentum, he reached for the pack of condoms he'd reserved under the pillows. The thing he appreciated most about Dawn's sense of fashion was how ridiculously easy it made everything. He slithered a hand under her coat, hooked her panties to the side, and within seconds, established a rhythm pumping in and out of her wet spot. Their lovemaking never involved love; just raw, unimpeded, teenage hormones running amok. The romp was hot, intense and desperate. One minute into it, they were moaning as if it was a competition to be the loudest, and barely a minute beyond that, Max was forced to pull out and empty his seed in the condom.

The drained boy lied beside her and exhaled a drawn-out breath. "Arceus, I needed that."

"Yeah. I can tell," said Dawn, checking her wristwatch as if she'd timed him.

He found the implication amusing. "Oh please, I was only getting warmed up." He reached for a second condom, and this time they managed to discard their clothing first, even if it was careless and hasty.

After the lengthy second round addressed her needs, Dawn started drifting with a goofy smile on her face. "Oh, Maxy..."

He rolled his eyes. "That better not become a thing."

Her smile broadened at the prospect of making it a thing. She caught a glimpse of the time and leapt upright. "Oh shoot, I was supposed to meet Dee Dee at the pier like 10 minutes ago. My hair's such a mess!" She rummaged for her hat under her side of the bed, vaguely recalling it fall while he was taking her over the edge. Her blind search stumbled upon a curious object with at least four sides and corners. She lifted it from its hiding spot, revealing a box disguised as a Rubik cube. "Oh Maxy, you shouldn't have."

The sight of the treasure in her grasp chilled him to the bone. He snatched it away before she could open it. "Don't touch that!" The bark stunned them both, sparking their first awkward moment. Max tried to laugh it off but even that came out awkward. "It's just my, uh, my lucky charm," he said, shaking the box.

"Hey, you don't have to explain yourself to me." She searched for her socks, a sudden lack of interest. "None of my business. I never pegged for the superstitious type though."

Looking at the box, Max would've had to agree. "I guess we're all irrational about some things."

"I guess so."

The conversation lost its way. He felt weird and guilty, like he should be apologising. It didn't seem necessary though. Dawn was more concerned about rushing off to her friend. The only thing he loved more than watching her dress was watching her do it in reverse. She looked over her shoulder, feeling his eyes on her ass.

"Till next time," she said, disappearing with a smirk.

. . .

Max was kicking ass on Words With Friends when a knock broke his momentum. Back already? He closed his laptop and all but skipped to the door. Truth be told, his steamy sessions with Dawn had done more for his nerves than anything else on the island. He swung the door open, ready to drag her inside, but his surprise visitor transcended all expectations.

Max did a triple take processing what his eyes were suggesting. The brunette looked familiar yet strange; her face had lost the roundness of prepubescent youth, her eyes grown a deeper blue. For every inch she'd added to her height, he must have added three, overtaking her by at least half a foot. She'd toned up and sculpted womanly curves, filling out her ensemble to greater appeal. The skin-tight shorts squeezed her shapely thighs while the white skirt appeared to have shrunk. But what stuck out most was her eye-popping bust, living up to her potential and then some. Big sister had gotten a whole lot bigger.

"May…?"

"Max? Is that really you?" Her sapphire orbs sparkled like the vast sea as several waves of emotion crashed all at once.

"Yeah," said Max, lost, dumbfounded.

She threw her arms around him, almost taking him to ground. "My God, Max, you've grown so much," she muttered in his ear after rising on her toes to reach it. "I'm kind of sad I wasn't there to see it all happen." She squeezed him as if she never intended to let go, stifling a sniff or two.

Max had spun this reunion in his head a thousand times since she left, and not once had he anticipated she'd let on that she missed him. All the quarrelling, name calling, and ill will evaporated the instant she looked upon him. Her maturity had extended well beyond the physical. He felt petty for thinking their past squabbles would dampen this moment, for thinking she'd still care about him walking in on her. She was family, his sister. Back in his arms. That's all that mattered, and after years spent apart, that's all that should've mattered. Max eased up and enjoyed the warm moment for what it was, raising his arms to return her embrace. He tried not to think about her squishy chest pressing against him. He really tried.

"How did you find me?" asked Max.

"Mom and dad said you'd be staying at this hotel. I just asked for your name at the reception."

"Oh…" He didn't know why he'd expected some grandiose tale like searching mountains and caves, leaving no stones unturned.

"Aren't you going to invite me in?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah. Sure."

"Still a dope I see." She flicked his forehead. It would've raised his blood pressure in the past, but now, all he could do was laugh.

The siblings swapped stories over pizza and Soda Pops. He still couldn't believe she was sitting right in front of him. She'd been a ghost for over half a decade. He phased in and out of attention, watching her lips move without hearing the words, feeling reality blend into ripples of surreal. She was back. So many things felt familiar but some things felt off. Despite the proximity, he still felt the gap that had separated them for years, the inability to address certain incidents from the past. The silent pact continued. Max was no closer to asking her why she left than he was back then. No closer to apologising for being a brat. No closer to asking if she remembered.

The reunion came without resolve. Nonetheless, reminiscing and laughing together helped fill the void. They talked until late and then Max offered to share the room. He only realised how awkward that would be when she didn't respond straight away. The last time they slept in the same room . . . things may or may not have happened.

"Thanks, but I wouldn't want to invade your space," said May, scratching the back of her head sheepishly. "I passed a Pokémon Centre on the way here anyway. I'll double back, it's no problem."

"Alright," said Max. "Meet up tomorrow then?"

They fidgeted, trying to decide on the best gesture to bid farewell before settling on an awkward hug.

. . .

The next morning, May showed up earlier than expected. Max asked her to give him a moment to hop in the shower. She obliged, sitting patiently on his bed. He presumed she'd stay there until he was ready but when Max stepped out, he found her standing with her arms crossed, her face twisted in a grimace. He was puzzled; one second she was excited to hang out before his match tomorrow, the next she was ready to throttle him. However, it all made sense when she brandished his special 'Rubik cube'.

Busted, Max gulped. "W-wait. I can explain."

"Creep!" She chucked the box at him.

He tried to catch it but it hit his chest and fell to the floor, flipping open and letting out a pair of old panties. May's old panties.

She stormed out and he chased after her.


	5. Brother And Sister Again

**A/N:** Okay, here we go. Final chapter. Thanks everybody for reading. I appreciate all the comments and reviews, and feel free to leave some more. :P

* * *

**Closet Capers**

Chapter 5 – Brother and Sister Again

Creep.

She was right, and didn't know the half of it.

Max had never stopped thinking about her since she left – no, since they stepped out of that closet together. He'd strived to keep his perversions locked up and being sheltered by his parents didn't help. Stuck at home, enrolled to an all-boys school, he bumbled through puberty in drought of female peers until he grew old enough to set off on his own journey. By then the damage had long been done. May's enduring absence made her less of a sister and more of a girl. It desensitised him to the weirdness of envisaging her naked. It perverted his ideals of sexual gratification. All he could think about was her, even when he wasn't; his preference for brunettes and Pokémon Coordinators was no coincidence. Creep was right, and he'd been so immersed in his fantasies he never saw it.

Max followed his sister into a desolate forest where she sat on a fallen tree. He stopped, and for a second, thought about turning back and leaving her be. Who in their right mind would want to look him in the eyes after unearthing such a revolting secret? But he realised turning back would be no different to running. They'd never get over this hump. He approached her in slow, unimposing steps, giving himself the time to formulate words.

"I know you're mad –"

"Yes, I am!" exclaimed May. "But not at you, Max. At myself…"

Her words caught Max off-guard. The softer tone gave him the courage to round the tree. She looked up at him with watery eyes.

"Let's face it. This is all my fault. The reason you're like that. The reason I'm like this." She wiped away a tear. "It's all because of me."

He hadn't seen her this distraught since they were kids. Where he might've sniggered in the past, he wanted to console her. Walking up and patting her shoulder still felt weird so he settled for words. "You didn't know what was going to happen. If you hadn't thought about sneaking into their closet, I probably would've. We were dumb kids. It was going to be an epic scare though. Too bad stupid mom and dad had to ruin everything."

She laughed at the unintended joke. "Good job at making it their fault."

Max was pleased to see her crack a smile. It had yet to dawn on him that they were speaking about the incident for the first time since it happened. Better late than never. May went on to describe her reason for departing and to his relief it had nothing to do with the shopping catastrophe – she didn't even remember that. She'd been contemplating leaving for weeks before her decision. The 'weirdness' had become too much to bear and she couldn't look anyone in the eyes anymore, not even her little brother. She felt guilty for corrupting him and feared he'd never recover with her around as a constant reminder. Leaving was the best gamble she could think of for restoring normalcy to their all lives. Although her efforts ended in vain, her actions were more responsible than the knee-jerk, selfish decision he'd thought she made. His resentment towards her had all but dissipated.

"I just want us to get back to being brother and sister again instead of awkward strangers," said May.

"Me too," said Max, wholeheartedly. Now, May was back.

"Race you to the hotel?" she challenged with a wink.

"Sur-" She set off. "Hey, wait!"

As he closed the distance of her head start, May stuck out a leg and tripped him. "How juvenile," he said, re-adjusting his glasses. "Now it's on." He sprinted after her with renewed passion. But she still beat him to the hotel, bursting through the door seconds before he did. Nonetheless, she had no opportunity to celebrate, knowing she was in big trouble for cheating. She tried to run but he closed off all exits. A standoff of grand proportions. Then she shrieked as he tackled her to the bed.

The two were at it again, wrestling like their younger selves, albeit this time laughing and giggling as they rolled about. Max was so used to losing he shocked himself when he pinned her to the mattress, wrists bound in his clutches, body wriggling under his weight. He . . . won.

Laughter petered out as they held the position, a monumental portrait waiting to be painted, breaths in rhythmic union, eyes locked. She looked breath-taking with her hair sprawled out from underneath the bandana. There was no way he wasn't going to kiss her.

Their lips met with a tentative touch, a thirst to sample the unthinkable before plunging headfirst. They spoke through eye gestures, asking how it felt, and then a subtle glance to the lips, a question that needed no answer. Another light kiss, a test of wills, confirming if the first was a mistake, it was one they were both willing to repeat. Kissing his sister didn't strike the inner conflict he might've expected. Her lips tasted like any other girl's, if not sweetened by years of fermenting anticipation.

"What are we doing?" whispered May, a flicker of sobriety in her eyes.

Max ignored her qualms and dove in for another kiss. He didn't want to think about it and didn't want her too either. The third acquaintance of their lips overcame the hesitation of the first two. He sampled her rosy cushions more fully as she pinched his bottom half with her mouth. Oddly perhaps, none of his fantasies had centred on kissing her, but now that he was here, he yearned for it all. He used his bottom lip to wedge hers ajar and she took the subtle hint gracefully, opening to receive his tongue. She tasted warm and expansive. Tongues grappled and juices that should've never mixed concocted a sugary addiction. Max stepped back after a deep, lengthy session depleted the breath in his lungs.

"What we've always he wanted to," he finally answered.

May might've been smaller and weaker than him now, but utilising the element of surprise, she flipped him onto his back, reversing their orientation. Typical of her, always wanted to be in charge. Donning a satisfied expression, she initiated another bout of kisses. Their passion resounded from wet touches. It was easy to forget this was his sister making out with him. Her hand roamed under his shirt, feeling the heat of his body, the sprint of his heartbeat. He was thankful for her advances, the bolstering of mutual attraction. She was as much of a creep as he was, although she probably hadn't swum through his underwear drawer, so maybe not. In any case, he liked to think this moment was not just an item to cross off some sordid wish list, but, as weird as it sounded, a necessary milestone in purifying their relationship, a hump they needed to get over once and for all, a washing away of the dubious impulses polluting the kind of love that should've bound siblings. Or maybe he just really needed to have her.

His hand glided down the back of her upper leg and then pulled up her knee, spreading her inner thigh across his abdomen. The form-fitting spandex accentuated the smoothness of her skin. He caressed her up and down, appreciating the feel of toned silk, and where thigh and shorts converged he squeezed fingertips under the hem, and continued until his whole hand fit in her tights. Her breath quickened the further he climbed, reaching higher and higher altitudes of sensitivity, pinching on the firmness of her ass.

"Max…" She feigned hesitance and lacked any will or desire to stop him. It sounded more like an 'I'm not a ready' plea than the 'don't do that, I'm your sister' type. So Max groped her some more, enthralled by the lack of panties in there. His fingers skated southward between her cheeks until they grazed something damp and fleshy, forcing her to jerk, touched by static. "Max," she said, stronger this time. She tried to wrestle her way out of it but Max saw it coming. Another flurry of intimate grapples and tumbling about ended with May on her back and Max lying beside her, clutching the waistband of her shorts. He won again.

May gasped as one strong tug dragged her shorts to her knees. Max only caught a glimpse before she pulled down the hem of her white skirt, stretching it to cover her modesty. The sight of her vulnerability was strangely empowering. He suspected because he'd always been the little brother, the smaller one at the whim of her physical superiority and bossy attitude. After all that bullying, vengeance felt long overdue and refreshing. He pulled the shorts down her calves and beyond, sweeping off her shoes in his stride. She kept her knees locked but a little effort had her legs parted in no time. He lurked within sniffing distance of his prize where nothing but a hand blocked him from seeing what he'd been dying to since his first glimpse years ago. He'd seen many since then but his sweet sister held the inadvertent honour of showing him his first. When his patience ran out, he grabbed her wrist and whisked away her final defence.

And there it was. Just like he remembered. Although, not quite. Maybe due to age, or arousal, or perhaps merely his proximity, her nether lips looked fleshier than he recalled, albeit still as smooth and held together as her prepubescent self. It smelt deliciously like the panties he'd intoxicated himself with, except much stronger, alluring. He rubbed his nose along her slit, her excitement moistening the tip as he drank in her musk. It was as pretty a pussy as he'd ever seen. He squeezed her outer lips together and watched them puff as the ripe pinkness in between wet his appetite. They both knew what was coming next and he wanted to look her in the eye as he did it. Propped on her elbows, she met his gaze, hand over her mouth, eyes bulging with shock and anticipation. Ready? He parted his lips whilst maintaining eye contact. Set. He marinated her petals with hot breath. Lick.

Air vacated her lungs all at once.

Max tongued his sister's folds in short, light strokes. His technique was fulfilling in painfully brief doses, leaving her aching more and more for that next feathery lick. He could see it in her eyes; that look that said 'you've done this before, haven't you?' To say every girl he laid was practice for May would be a stretch, but not a big one. Deep into the throes of passion, girls' faces morphed into hers and spurred him into a higher gear. Although he wouldn't need that extra bit of imagination today, he put pressure on himself to be meticulous, ignoring the growing compulsion to mount her right there and then. This wasn't Dawn or any other girl. It was, quite literally, his dream girl. And he'd eat her out until she begged him to stop. And even then, he wasn't sure he would.

He licked the inner lining of her pink petals. The wrinkly folds were saturated with her honey and sensitive to every swipe. She stifled the moans as his delicate strokes took a feverish turn. He loved the way his big sister tasted and she loved the way he tasted her, easily the best thing they had in common. Now there was an idea for family fun night. His digits dissected her lips allowing his tongue to plunge into her humid depths. The deeper he went, the deeper she moaned. He closed his mouth over her pussy and proceeded to eat her inside out. She had to cover her mouth, lest she inform the entire hotel of their incestuous activities. It was fun making it hard for her. He lapped up her nectar with greedy slurps, reaching anywhere and everywhere inside her.

"Max . . . stop," she panted. "You're . . . you're gonna make me . . ."

Oh? If that were the case, why _would_ he stop? Was she ashamed her little brother could make her cum? With the deviance he'd always had as a child defying her, he targeted her clit. Her whole body flinched at the slightest stroke and she brought a hand down to protect herself from oversensitivity. But, being the imp that he was, Max bound her wrists behind her waist and proceeded to assault her vulnerable nub. He had to use all his strength to hold her wriggling body down as the tip of his tongue lashed at her clit endlessly. She made sounds he wasn't sure the shrillest pokémon could reproduce, the only coherent words expletives. Max kept at it, flicking her clit again and again and again and again, and then she squealed and her body convulsed. He watched his big sister go through the motions of a powerful orgasm. All because of him. Making your sister cum wasn't exactly something to be proud of but he couldn't help grin.

"You're a bastard," she said, voice still faint as she came down from heaven.

"What's the matter, May? Look a little flustered there." For once the red-faced girl had no comeback. "If that makes me a bastard, wonder what you'll think of me after this." As he dropped his shorts, a large phallus jutted out of his waistband. May gasped, and he took her inability to look away as a compliment. "I know, I know, a little bigger than you remember, right?" Understatement of the millennium. Needless to say, Max no longer doubted he had his father's genes. "You're not the only one who's done some growing up, sis."

He laid kisses up her sternum and neck before re-igniting her lips, but her lacklustre reciprocation told him she was distracted, and with his lengthy shaft rubbing up and down her slit, he couldn't blame her. Max thought going through with the deed wouldn't faze him; what was one more boundary after everything else they'd crossed? It was easy to fantasise about it but the thought of smashing through that final frontier played on his nerves. He'd actually be screwing his sister, his flesh and blood, and he could already see himself being disgusted and regretful of his actions, let alone what she would think of him afterwards. He gasped as he suddenly felt her stroking his length.

As if sensing his doubts, his big sister sought to reassure him as she'd often done when they were kids. "Do it," she said, a steadfast confidence in her eyes. "You know you want to." He couldn't deny it. "You know we have to." Debateable. "I want you to, Max." Her confirmation stunned him, although he'd suspected as much, hearing her say the words cleared an obscure cloud that had been following him for close to a decade. "Do it," she said again. "Fuck me like you wanted to in that closet. Do it."

Her encouragement stiffened his already rock-hard cock. Suddenly, he was bustling to grab a condom, but his hand stopped shy of the pillow. He'd always been horny, but never stupid. What he'd already done with his sister however, what he was about to do with her now, was beyond stupid. Today he'd be stupid with May. He retreated from the pack of condoms and reached for his cock instead, lining up his unsheathed member. The sleek touch of her walls welcoming his cap was too agonising to delay. The second he sensed her entrance with his tip, he ploughed through her engorged folds, uniting brother and sister in the most sordid way imaginable.

She was taken by his size and he by her tightness. It only occurred to him then he couldn't say whether or not she was a virgin. He shook the possibly out of his head. If he'd accompanied a girl with a body like hers she wouldn't stay untouched for very long, let alone all the other guys who weren't related to her. Still, judging by her tightness and breathy moans, it had to be her first time taking someone of his proportions.

He couldn't believe he was inside her. At long last. Her sweet, _sweet_ walls embraced his unwrapped cock so snugly. He didn't know if it was the lack of latex or the pure quality of her pussy, but he'd never felt better inside a girl, a revelation on par with his first venture into sex. He'd built up this moment in his head for so long it overwhelmed him; all tact out the window, he pumped in and out of her as if he was clutching _X Speed_ in both hands, hips thundering down on her, a storm without the calm. Her legs were bent on either side of his frame and flapped like wings with every rise and drop of his buttocks. She couldn't moan fast enough to keep up with his savage pace. The torrent of his thrusts rocked her entire body up and down the bed, dishevelling her bandana and dispersing the locks within. And all this within fifteen seconds of entering her. Max sensed his limit a few pumps away and knew he had to slow down before he embarrassed himself. It didn't help that her pink, little pussy was so warm and tight. Summoning every ounce of willpower in his reserves, he forced an abrupt stop.

A breathless May lied ragged. "Wow…"

'Wow' was right, thought Max, panting heavily after his sprint to a near-climax. Time slowed in a haze. The next thing he knew he was sprawled out on his back and May's face was rising over his crotch. The haze cleared in a hurry when her lips graced his dick.

He was mesmerised, frozen in awe watching her tongue begin at the base of his cock then glide its way to the head. He received the proverbial cherry on top when her lips wrapped around his mushroom tip. It was his turn to moan. She pumped up and down his shaft in a tight fist, helped by the remnants of her natural lubricant, and rolled her tongue around his bulbous cap. If there was any shame in handling her own brother's tool, she hid it well behind purring eyes and an audacious performance, almost as if she'd done it before. As her mouth encompassed a third of his length, warmth swirling all around him, he wondered if she _had_ done this before. Déjà vu clouded her features, and a mirage of her younger self bobbing in the sheets intertwined with reality, the beat of distant raindrops in and out of focus. Somehow he just knew all of that night couldn't have been a dream.

Naughty May. If she'd wanted his dick so bad, she could've just asked; it would've spared them both the hassle of perving in the shadows. He cupped the side of her face and encouraged her to finish what she'd started that night – only this time she had quadruple the amount of meat to deal with and triple the thickness. His sweet sister would know he wasn't the little boy he was back then, subject to the whims of her curiosity. Pressing down the back of her head, he treated her to more of himself, making her gag on his length. Her mouth was swirling with his flavour as he bore into her lidded eyes, petting her like his own little pokémon, feeling her tongue shift in the crammed space, massaging the underside of his girth to moan-full effect. Big sister bearing a mouthful of his cock was a beautiful sin to behold, one he'd remember forever if they never got to do this again, and it was with that fear in mind, his eyes turned focus to the peripheral mounds beneath her dripping chin.

He hoisted her up until her face hovered above his, and burned her lips with raring kisses, all whilst his hands caressed her bountiful breasts. He felt their softness through her shirt, amazed at how far they'd come, barely fitting in his greedy palms. The intensity of his gropes mirrored the rising passion of their kisses. He reached through the bottom of her shirt, and after making quick work of her bra, felt up her breasts unobstructed, sighing at the suppleness of the meaty flesh. Pleasure quickened her breath as he fondled her with diminishing patience. Eager to see the full extent of her development, he pushed her breasts through the top of her shirt, and as they made it through, the tight squeeze left a brim-full, bulging impression, as if they ever needed any enhancement. He had to stop and stare.

"Pervert," said May, suddenly but softly. "Thinking about your sister's breasts all these years? That look on your face . . . I remember it when you walked in on me."

Max blushed unexpectedly. "Oh yeah, sorry about that."

"You didn't look sorry back then. Not even a punch could wipe the smile off your face." Well, what did she expect? They were the first set of tits he'd seen that didn't belong to his mother. "Tell me, naughty little brother of mine," she purred. "Did you want to touch them?" He nodded shyly. "Did you want to lick them?" She leaned into his ear. "Did you want to suck on your sister's tits?" Again, he nodded, and she continued. "Then what are you waiting for?"

As May lowered her chest, her areolae zoomed in on him, growing even larger as the world darkened all around them. Buried in her puffy mounds, he began to lick blindly and nibble with his lips, gliding his teeth along her smooth humps, fighting the urge to sink into the soft, tender meat. She flinched whenever he flicked at her nipples so he made a game out of keeping her guessing. Then, out of the blue, he grabbed handfuls of the supple flesh, melting in his palms, contorting to his gropes as he squeezed them softly to avoid hurting her and yet strongly enough to have them protrude like baby bottles. He closed his mouth around one nipple, causing her to jolt when he started to suck. If she knew how many times he'd done in this his dreams, she'd have to come up with a stronger word than 'creep' or 'pervert.' But suck his sister's breasts he did, switching between them, groping, licking, and slurping, practically slobbering all over them as he shed his table manners. He caught one weighty breast in his mouth and shook it like a rabid dog, watching the flesh wobble, hearing his sister moan. He could tell she wanted him to do everything he'd always yearned for; perhaps to make up for corrupting him as a child, or abandoning him in the midst of confusion, or maybe just out of raw need. Whatever the case, Max held no intention of holding back.

He had her rise off his waist high enough to align his shaft then eased her down the tower of dick, every inch after the fifth progressively harder. They rocked gently while she learned to deal with his size. He discarded his shirt and helped her do the same, gawking as her breasts were allowed the freedom to hang. Save for her flimsy micro skirt, he had his shapely sister butt-naked on his laps, and his only regret was it hadn't happened sooner. She rocked back and forth with growing confidence and he groped her firm ass as she did so. They moaned together, consumed by the indecency of their merging, overwhelmed by years of obscured and unexpressed sexuality. Although they were too young to know it, they both wanted this from the moment they spied on their parents in that closet, and not just with anyone. They wanted it with each other.

May cried out as she bounced on his cock, each drop sliding down his full length and ending in a smack of their flesh. She was so wet; she had to be, to lubricate the ride. He gazed with starry eyes as the breasts he'd idolised since childhood flopped up and down in meaty hops. Gripping her waist, he lifted her white skirt with his wrists, revealing the extent she'd had to stretch to accommodate him all. Her clit was pinker than he'd ever seen one, engorged, protruding like a love button begging to be tampered with. He clung onto her hips and thrust upwards at a faster pace than she could ever ride him. Not a second paused between wet smacks and groans. He sat up and gaze into her hazy eyes while he continued thrusting. She was finally his, and he hers. They embraced, kissed, and then toppled over, a not-so-seamless transition into missionary, but no passion was lost along the way. Right back to where they'd started. He pounded her senseless, ignoring his fallen glasses, rocking the bed and the world beneath her, and this time he didn't stop, bringing her to climax en route to his own. He finished inside her with a desperate grunt.

Before either could come down from their high and fathom the stupidity of what he'd done, a shrill creek stole their attention. Max looked straight ahead and May looked upside-down from her position.

The closet door fell open and a motionless woman dropped to the floor like a sack of potatoes.

"Mom…?" they said in union.

As the siblings bustled for their clothes, Norman limped out of the shadows as if he'd been physically maimed.

"Sur . . . prise."

He collapsed on top of their unconscious mother.

**END**


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